


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - An almost kiss

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Friendship, No Smut, Rated M for language, Romance, Song fic, indicated feelings for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a tumblr prompt: Can you write an almost kiss?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - An almost kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I thought long and hard how to bring them into this situation and when I began, I was not knowing it would end like that. I wanted to keep it a real possible situation - well, decide by yourself. I like it, I think. Rated M for language. Sorry for mistakes, English is not my native, thanks for reading anyway.  
> Remember, this is a fictional story.

Jenna sits in the break room, alone, some script in her hand, reading it over and over again. Trying to remember the text, that is written on. She tries the first line - eyes closed. She begins fine, but forgets how the sentence will end.

“Damn!”

Once more, eyes pressed closed very hard, hands in her neck - she tries hard to remember.

“Damn, damn!” she jumps up and glares down at the script.

She is so full with text and dialogue for Doctor Who, she can’t get any other script into her head. She is at her limits, after over 30 weeks of filming.

How could that happen to her? She had never problems to learn text. She could easily memorize two or three different longer script passages without mixing anything up. Her colleagues in drama school envied her because of this. She could jump from “Much ado about nothing” to “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” to some meaningless TV Show jabbering.

It was depressing, but more, it brought her into some kind of rage.

“Fu-!”

“-excuse me?” Peter leans against the doorframe, watching her little battle with the script.

Quickly she slams the script shut, turning around to glare at Peter, “How long are you already standing there?”

Peter notices in an instant that he just had stepped onto battle ground. “Will my answer have any effect if I leave this room dead or alive?”

Usually she is susceptible for his humour, but not this time, “Just answer the question will you?”

 _‘Gosh,’_ he thinks, inhales sharply and walks in toward the coffee machine. “Long enough.” He thinks about to stay quiet, but he is curious and asks, “what were you rehearsing?”

“Nothing important.” She thinks about to leave, but the break room is the best place to rehearse. The trailer is too narrow and too noisy.

He waits till his cup is filled, then turns around, “Didn’t look like it.”

She is still furious, and she even doesn't know why, but she tries to calm herself down. “Just some script my agent has sent over.”

“Another job?” he blurts out in surprise. “For when?”

She doesn’t want to tell him, but he seems to wait, both eyebrows raised, “Possibly,” she emphasizes it very accurately, “after the Christmas Special.” She opens the script again.

He sips from his coffee- considering to go into battle or not. _‘Better a coward and alive,’_ he thinks and just nods before saying, “Fine.”

“Alright!” she shuts the script again and stands up. “Say it!”

“I had no words I wanted to say,” he lies, and he knows she can see it in his face.

“You know, I can see when you lie,” she frowns.

She is working with him day and night, she has studied him. Sees him acting, rehearsing, talking and walking most of the time they are up. She doesn’t know why, but after a week or two she started subconscious to mesmerize little things at him. A twitch with an eyebrow and the meaning behind it. The way words left his mouth when he talked to fans, producers and friends. She had started to hear the slight difference in the thick scottish accent. More thicker when in uprise, more softer when at ease. The movement of his lips when thinking, when talking the truth or telling a lie.

“Oh for god sake! Jenna!” he just exclaims.

He knew it, he simply knew it. Stubborn woman. He knew she was uneasy when he had seen her in the morning for the first scene. She had greeted Moffatt nice as ever, but he could see the fine difference in her eyes. She was pissed, not by Moffatt or by him. She was pissed because of herself. A self critic she was, first in line. He knew this attitude from himself, twenty-five years ago. “It is just very ambitious.”

“So what?” She knows it is not his fault, he is just the one who will be the scapegoat for her bad day. She is not really sorry right now, maybe because she knows he can take it.

She stands in front of him, five foot two and seething. He really wants no argument, but he feels used, he feels pushed.

“Okay,” he says, placing his cup on a nearby table, with a little bit more vigour than planned. “You just want to fight, right?”

“Do I?” giving him a provoking look.

Here eyes are saying something he can read clear as a bell.  _‘Try me.’_

“Fine. Fine,” he gives her one more chance before crossing the line. “Fine.”

She keeps standing where she is, arms crossed, waiting.

He walks over to the script, reading the headline. It gives him fire.

“Honestly? This? This show is the worst on Telly right now, and you want to ruin the only time in the year you have a month off, just for appearing in this rubbish, second class show?”

“Are we a bit jealous maybe?”

“Jealous?”

“Got no new scripts, didn’t you?”

“What for? I am the Doctor! I don’t need another job in between. Jenna honestly, this is a bad idea. You should not working, you should go on holiday to come back relaxed for another season.”

“I don’t think it is your buisness,” she answers loud. “So why do you care?” it is more an hypothetical question.

Peter knows she doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t wants to fight with him but she has pushed herself so far, there is no way back. He knows that feeling good. Standing on an edge you do not want to cross, but you have no more the own decision over it. You have to jump, except someone will stop you.

He walks past her, grabs the script and a stool near by to place it in the middle of the room with a small bang. He sits down, “Go on!” and holds out the script to her.

She is bewildered by his actions. It was not what she had expected. “I… I don’t understand.”

He stands up again, grabs her arm and places the script in her hand. After that he sits down again.

“Hit me, slap me and give it to me! I don’t care!” he raises his hands waving her over. “I am not gonna fight with you, so just let your rage run free.”

“I shall slap you?”

“Yap.”

“With the script?”

“Believe me it helps,” he waves again.

Her mad face breaks down for a moment and a half smile appears, “Do you have experience with that?”

“I usually hit the table or the doorframe with it and not human beings - nice human beings bye the way - but I think you can skip that and just go the hard road with me. It really helps to resolve tensions.”

“I am not going to hit you!”

“Scared?” he asks like a 12 year old who dares the smallest in class.

“N..no. I just don’t hit people,” she feels challenged, and she knows he tries to push her.

“You hit me once, so what?”

“That was for the script.”

“So we come full circle,” he says dryly. After a pause and a thin smile paired with a look that sends some shivers through Jenna, he adds; “hit me.”

How had that happened? How could she have lost so much control over the conversation?

Unsure what to do, torn between her inner anger and his silly demand to hit her with the thick piece of paper, she walks slowly up to him. It is more a playful hit she gives him on the arm, bringing herself quickly out of range. Somehow she fears he would attack her like a playful tiger.

“What was that?” he calls out. “Every three year old could hit harder.”

She doesn’t like it to be teased by him, so she gathers together her courage and hits him harder, yet not very convincingly.

“Better,” he rubs his shoulder slightly. “Like a six year old now.”

“Are you mocking me?” she bursts out and doesn’t know if she still is angry or now just exasperated by him.

“Are you hitting me?” he shoves forward on his stool till the edge, wiggling with his shoulders.

“You will regret that, Scottish boy!” she gives him one of her dangerous smiles, telling him with it, he should better look out for her next move.

“Try me!” his lips say in silence and the next thing he can manage, is to catch the script Jenna throws with a loud “Catch!” toward him.

She steps forward, then to the side, grabs for the back of the chair and just has to tip it slightly forward and Peter loses balance and falls down on the ground.

“Ha! Scottish boy! I told you!” she makes a little dance around him, who is still on the floor, groaning, his face buried in his hands. “Oh, come one, that couldn’t have hurt,” she stops her celebrating and starts to worry.

He pulls in his legs and groans loudly, almost seems to cry.

“Peter?” she quickly falls down her knees and grabs him on his shoulders, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“-and you didn’t! Ha!” his upper body leaps up, catching her arms, squeezing them and letting go of her immediately, while she can’t hold a short scream people tend to do when almost scared to death.

“Capaldi! You prick!”

He laughs out loud and can’t hide his pure pleasure about his successful prank.

She takes the script from the ground and starts hitting him, “You mean prick! You fucking scared me to death!”

“Oi, watch it Coleman, your Malcom Tucker is showing!” he can’t stop laughing while trying to snatch away the papery weapon.

And somehow they find themselves tangled in each others hands and arms.

Somehow they end up close together not only skin on skin but forehead on forehead and Peter can’t remember why they are laying on the ground.

The only thing he sees are Jennas brown eyes, looking back into his green, probably asking herself the same question.

 

And hearts stop beating and lungs stop breathing, and without a warning there is this possibility in the room. This large room, made for a read through with 40 or 50 people, now centered around two people.

She sees him blink, and it seems he has closed his eyes for an endless time, and she takes in this well known face, capturing even more new facets. This face, totally at ease.

It is burning, it is burning like a wild fire - the spot where their heads meet.

He shifts mere an inch. It brings his lips even closer and he swallows. They are unsure whose turn it is - his or hers? Hers or his?

Their perfume mix up and she finds herself asking this essential question; what if?

There is this song, the station had played it in the morning. Four minutes after 6 o’clock. They both know that they are listening to the same station when they wake up. They have shared this thought once.

 

> _»Even the best fall down sometimes,_
> 
> _Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_
> 
> _Out of the doubt that fills my mind_
> 
> _I somehow find_
> 
> _You and I collide«_
> 
>  

There is a cell phone ringing somewhere. What if. What if not.

 

“I think I shall better take that,” Peter says, moving away from her.

“Yeah, better,” Jenna clears her throat and stands up, leaving the script on the floor.

Not taking the phone out of his pocket he just lets it ring, instead he is seeing her, how she is now filled up with hundreds of questions. He knows them all, hers are his.

Stepping toward her, taking the script from the floor, taking one more time her hand, shoving the paper into it. Not without a gentle, caring stroke of his thumb. Not without pulling her in, giving her a kiss on her temple.

“See ya, my dear companion,” he smiles and she smiles back.

Yes, she knows him good, she knows he remembers the song.

 

 

> _»I’m quiet you know_
> 
> _You make a first impression_
> 
> _I’ve found I’m scared to know I’m always on your mind«_
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed reading the story - -> Kudos?! A Review would be great too! The Song is Collide by Howie Day.


End file.
